University Town – chapter 1.



I live in a university town and make my living here as a professor in computer science. Sounds like a sweet deal, no? Of course life is only as sweet as we make it. Seeing as I'm living alone, I have probably not done a very good job of it.


I know a lot of professors who think they're smarter than everyone else, just because they're professors. It's hubris. Truth is we're just as stupid as the average Joe Bloke down the street. Perhaps the stupidest thing I've done is marry. The poor girl deserved better, deserved someone that would truly lust after her. I used to label myself as bisexual. A lot of gays do. Makes us feel more mainstream, more flexible, as in “I can be anyone I want to be”. I was only fooling myself. And my wife I suppose.


Ironically I was the faithful one in our relationship, apart from some hand-jobs with random strangers, that is. I was never truly looking for extramarital sex. But as an educator and researcher, I travel a few times per year to conferences, presenting papers, catching up with others working in my field. So yes, the opportunities were there. I visited steam rooms, caught some eye candy, rubbed bare shoulders and knees with kindred spirits. But I was always worried about STDs and never went further than hand-jobs, both giving and receiving. I had a wife and son to think about, thought I had a stable marriage right up to the day that my wife asked for a divorce.


She had found another man and had fallen in love, all over again. What was I to do or say? We split amicably. She got the house and custody of our son while I moved into a one-bedroom condo across from the university. A few years later when her new husband had to relocate for his job, my son moved in with me. He had just turned sixteen, had a girlfriend and did not want to leave town. My condo was small but we managed. I gave him my bedroom and also put a desk in there for him to study. The couch in the living room I replaced with a bed for myself. Not having a significant other, I really had no need for privacy. My son got used to seeing me naked at times and we never made a big deal of it. And yes, I caught a few glimpses of him naked too, though never more than a whirlwind of him running to his bedroom after a shower. Sure I liked what I saw but he was my son. There was never anything even remotely sexual between us. After high school his girlfriend moved to UCLA and he followed her out there. I was alone once again.


I never realized how much I would miss him until he was already gone. He left an empty spot in my life, a spot that I needed to fill somehow. Instead of moving back into my own bedroom, I decided to try renting it out to some student. Finding a student renter was easy. The university drew in lots of students from out of town and student housing was expensive. Me, I didn't need the money. I needed the company.


I decided to be up front about it and posted a note at the university's Gay Alliance, stating that an older gay nudist had one room available for rent right across from the university; you could not get any closer. Price was negotiable.


I ended up interviewing four candidates. Each of them wanted to know the price but I confessed that I didn't know how much to ask. I asked them to make me an offer and promised I would accept the best offer by the end of the week. Three out of four made me an offer. Two of the offers were ridiculously low, leaving me to doubt if they were even serious about moving in with me. But when I phoned the one student with the reasonable offer, he begged off, stating I was too late and he had already signed a lease.


I ended up accepting the student with the lowest offer. The few extra dollars offered by the other student really made no difference, so I just picked the student that had made the best impression on me. That student had been surprisingly outspoken. I like outspoken. Better to speak your mind than to harbor misconceptions and resentments.


“Do you expect me to suck you off or something?” he had asked.


“No” I assured him. “I don't think I could legally ask for any kind of sexual favors. All I can hope for is that we can be kind to each other and accept each other for who we are. I'm a gay old nudist. You're a young student who saw my note at the Gay Alliance. Do you think we could be compatible as house mates, nothing more?”


“I guess so, as long as I have my own space.”


“I won't go in your bedroom, that's your space. The rest of the condo we have to share.”


“Right...”


The boy had seemed unsure. I would have been too, in his shoes. I decided not to put on any pressure, gave him until the end of the week to make an offer, if any. Instead he made me an offer right there and then, a low ball offer; barely half of the going rate for a room. It was an insult, especially for a room that was as close to the university as you could get. Nonetheless I thanked him and promised to let him know by the end of the week if he could have the room.


I ended up with a choice between his and a second, slightly higher offer. But the second student had been quiet, skeptical throughout the interview. I had no clue what that other student was thinking. I could not be sure of making the right choice, but I decided to go with the first offer, even if it was the lowest.



Please email your comments to peerkano@protonmail.com. I will listen to your suggestions and continue this story if there is interest. Thanks to Nifty for connecting writers and readers. Please support them.